A/N: Thanks again for all the reviews, as always they're greatly appreciated.

xxxx

The warehouse looked just like all of the other warehouses down by the wharf; it looked old and decrepit, peeling paint and rusted tin and cobwebs and graffiti. It was surrounded by other warehouses and there was absolutely nothing to distinguish it from any other.

Except for the pair of glasses that was emitting a signal from somewhere inside it.

Clay was in front, gun drawn, with Aisha and Pooch just behind him. Cougar was perched on the roof of an adjacent building, gun aimed carefully at the dirty windows of the warehouse. Tactically, it was not a position Clay wanted to be in. They were essentially going in blind, and Cougar would only be able to provide minimal cover for them. So no, this wasn't a nice and controlled mission like the ones Clay usually ran, and it wasn't even a formerly-nice-plan-that-just-went-to-hell mission.

But it was Jensen, so none of that mattered.

Clay silently tested the door, gritting his teeth when it didn't budge. He motioned Pooch toward the door and stood next to it, waiting as Pooch expertly burst the door open with a few well-placed kicks. Clay winced at the sound, knew it was probably loud enough to inform everyone in the warehouse that they were coming, but took a step forward anyway, sweeping his gun in an arc and knowing that his team mates were doing the same.

The warehouse was largely empty, but there was a tall stack of crates in the center of the room that appeared to form a sectioned off area, and they headed directly for it. On the outside of the small area were set up chairs and a table, and there were cigarette butts and empty beer bottles scattered on the floor. Clay frowned and continued around the crates, closing his eyes for a moment as he took in what he was seeing.

There was a chair in the center of the area, dried blood dark on the floor around it. Aisha swore under her breath from behind him, and Pooch growled angrily. Clay stepped forward, gauging the amount of blood and trying to determine how severely Jensen was injured. His hands clenched into fists when he found a tooth lying in a puddle of blood, the roots grotesquely long and telling a clear story of torture.

"Clay?" Cougar said quietly, and Clay looked up. He hadn't realized that the sniper had joined them, and he mentally berated himself for exposing himself. Then again, Cougar could move more quietly than anyone else he knew.

"Yeah," he answered finally, because he wasn't really sure what else to say. There really wasn't anything else to say. Cougar knelt down beside him, mindless of the blood he was sitting in, and reached out a slightly trembling hand toward the tooth. He stopped before actually touching it, shaking his head.

"We have to find him," Cougar whispered, then held out his other hand.

Jensen's glasses, cracked and twisted.

Clay closed his eyes tightly and took a deep breath.

"We will. We'll find him. We'll still find him."

They all knew that he meant it, but they also all knew that at this point, finding Jensen might mean finding a body.

xxxx

Max was definitely hands-on. Not very creative, but hands-on. Jensen had kind of been expecting for Max to direct Juggernaut in his torture, maybe throwing him new and interesting techniques, but instead, he'd done it all himself. There had been the cigarettes, and there had been further beatings, and there had been the ripping off of his fingernails and electric shocks.

And between them, the few moments of bliss between the bouts of agony, there was blackness.

After a few hours (minutes, days, weeks?) they dragged him outside and shoved him into a trunk, and he wanted to struggle, to scream and kick, but between being bound and what he assumed was weakness caused by blood loss and fever, they picked him up and he couldn't hold his own head up, and they threw him in a trunk and they drove away.

It was hot and stuffy in the trunk, and Jensen found himself growing light-headed and dizzy, alternating between feeling too hot and too cold. He wasn't stupid. He had a fever, and he had suffered severe blood loss, not to mention possible internal bleeding, and the beginning stages of shock.

Jensen wasn't stupid.

He knew he was dying.

He wished that he could say goodbye to his nieces and his sister, and to Clay and Aisha. He wanted to say goodbye to Pooch, and to Cougar. They'd find another tech geek soon enough, but he vaguely hoped that they wouldn't forget about him.

His breathing was starting to come in short, harsh pants and his vision was fading when the trunk was popped open and bright sunlight flooded into his eyes. Juggernaut jerked him out and shoved him into a building that looked like another warehouse and then shoved him into a chair. It all seemed like déjà vu to Jensen.

When he was once again bound and unable to move, Max leaned in close, once again gripped his chin and whispered something in his ear. Jensen didn't hear what he said, and blinked slowly at him through a haze. Max frowned and repeated what he said, but it sounded like he was speaking underwater and Jensen just stared at him.

"Come on Jensen, you have to play along for this to work. Now call Clay."

Jensen stared at the cell phone that was being offered. Clay was good. Clay would help him. With shaky fingers, he dialed Clay's number and was mildly startled when Max then snatched the phone from him.

"But Clay…" He began, but he didn't know what he was saying anyway. Max was talking into the phone, gesturing wildly, and Jensen vaguely wondered what he was saying, but supposed it didn't really matter anyway.

The phone was suddenly thrust up next to his ear, and Max loudly demanded him to talk. Jensen blinked hazily until the command was repeated, and he dazedly obeyed.

"'Lo?" He croaked, surprised when Clay's voice came down the line. What was Clay doing talking to him?

"Jensen, are you okay? How bad is it?"

"Clay?" Jensen managed. He was rather proud of himself for figuring that much out, under the circumstances.

"Jensen, listen to me. You need to hang on, okay? We're coming to get you. Just hang tight."

"Clay," Jensen repeated, with certainty this time. Hot damn, but he was on fire today.

The phone was snatched away again and Max continued talking loudly, before leaning in close to Jensen's ear once more.

"Your friends are coming, Jensen. They're going to come and watch you die. What do you think about that? Poetic justice, huh?"

Jensen didn't fully understand what Max was saying, but he knew that it wasn't good and that he should probably be worried. But he was tired and he hurt, and he didn't have the strength to care anymore. He finally surrendered into the blackness that had been wavering at the edges of his vision, and slipped into the blissfulness of unconsciousness.